4.


The ambulance you’re drivingA siren down my throat


She sings two notes and then stops as I’m chewing


She tastes like a refinery spilling out into the grass


You scratch my back with the point


Of an exclamationIt feels like the voice


Of a two-headed cricket, you stammer


Into the moonlight after crashing into a lamp


Post, the gone family goner, and the crackpot


Cyclops rubbing his eye outNow he misses you


As I miss America, passing the torch in the rain


On a Sunday in a public pool’s lightningIt’s hard to say,


But anyway, and once again burningYou are


BlackingI am nervousI love you on purpose


Minerva Minerva, springing full throttleWhat a headache